As a student, the word “networking” is almost ubiquitous, like discovering Coffee Connect, or receiving LinkedIn notifications that a peer “wants to connect with you” before you’ve even figured out how to navigate Moodle. For some, opportunities emerge organically – a casual meet-up with a parent’s colleague or a quiet recommendation that turns into a summer role. For others, the process is more deliberate – casting out emails like fishing lines and hoping, with a bit of luck, that someone is willing to bite. While neither approach is wrong, the contrast does expose that access, not ability, often determines which prospective employees get their start.
Scroll through LinkedIn at any given moment and you’ll likely see it: university students, sometimes barely out of their first year, announcing summer internships at banks, consultancies, and law firms, before they’ve even settled on a degree pathway. Polished posts, accompanied by professional headshots, alongside captions brimming with gratitude – “thrilled”, “grateful”, “beyond excited”. For many at St Andrews, it sometimes seems like this early career momentum is almost expected. Yet beneath the curated enthusiasm lies another, subtler question: how are these students landing roles so soon, when so many are still figuring out where to begin?
Where does “networking” begin?
Networking is frequently described as a merit-enhancing skill: find a mentor, perfect your elevator pitch, and voilà – the doors will open, supposedly on a level playing field. In reality, though, networking often reflects the very hierarchies it claims to overcome. Some students are already fluent in it before they’ve even arrived at university, having been raised in rooms where confidence comes pre-taught. Others learn this through trial and error, crafting emails that vanish into inboxes, hoping their enthusiasm compensates for their lack of connections. What’s presented as equal footing often turns out to be a stage pre-set for some.
Nepotism, by contrast, is whispered about, the shadowy cousin of opportunity, where a name dropped in the right ear can change everything. In practice, however, the two blur. If your parent introduces you to a director at a firm, and you land an internship as a result, is it initiative or simply an inherited advantage? Â
On campus, it becomes even more visible. Scrolling through someone’s LinkedIn feed and seeing, “Proud to be joining XYZ Firm for a two-month placement!” only to notice the same last name appear again in the comments – a polite congratulations from the firm’s partner, and, coincidentally, their parent. This isn’t to say that if I were in their position, I wouldn’t take any opportunity handed to me, but it does spotlight the reality that some career branches are already growing from well-watered roots.
My upbringing meant no family legacy in corporate offices, no “uncle on the inside”; just the same ambition and effort that so many bring. And that can sometimes feel like climbing the slope from the bottom while others are already beginning near the summit.
The quiet power of who you know
The privilege of nepotism isn’t solely focused on wealth; it’s about access. At St. Andrews, where the student body is a mix of local talent and a well-connected international cohort, early career posts and internships can quietly reinforce existing discrepancies. A first-year scrolling on LinkedIn might see a peer announce, “Interning summer 2026!” and already sense they’re a step behind in an invisible race. For those without such advantages, networking can feel less like a strategy to land a dream job and more like catching up.
These early career opportunities often hinge less on skill and more on who they already know. A well-timed introduction can shortcut months of applications, while equally capable candidates are left navigating cold emails and automated HR filters. Referral schemes, alumni networks, and casual family introductions repeat a simple truth: access is inherited. This isn’t to say that talent and effort don’t matter, of course – but today it can sometimes seem as if the door only swings open once someone with the right connections decides to hold it for you.
Recognising this isn’t about blame; it’s about seeing the employment system for what it is: networking isn’t always meritocracy. Sometimes, opportunity starts with a name, not a CV. Yet there’s still something to be said for the effort behind genuine connection. Actually putting the “work” into networking —such as actively reaching out and showing curiosity in your field —can open doors that privilege alone can’t. It might not rewrite the rules of nepotism. Still, it can help redraw your own map: towards new interests, mentors who recognise promise over polish, and opportunities crafted by intent rather than inheritance.